


Tonsillitis

by Evenstar656



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenstar656/pseuds/Evenstar656
Summary: Jim is stricken with a childhood illness.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 105





	Tonsillitis

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Star Trek Into Darkness, general AOS
> 
> Disclaimer: The Star Trek franchise and its characters are property of Paramount.
> 
> Author’s Notes: Just a bit of shameless h/c. As always, although I am a doctor I’m not that kind so I happily practice with my fictional degree. Could be Gen or slight McKirk depending on how you’d like to view it.
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes, this was un-beta’d

###

“I don’t have all day, darlin’. Now, open up so I can go get dinner.”

Jim swallowed, wincing as the saliva slid down his raw throat. Slowly his lips parted and he was sitting there agape with his legs dangling off the side of the biobed.

“Good God man, I can see those bastards from here!” McCoy’s eyebrow arched alarmingly high.

The ailing Captain winced again.

After gathering his composure the doctor resumed his exam with a small penlight that was on the bottom of the tricorder wand. He couldn’t help but grimace at the red swollen balls of tissue that were teeming with white patches of infection.

“Hold still, I’m gonna get a culture so I can get the right antibiotic. That is if it’s even bacterial.”

Jim saw the cotton swab heading for his tender tonsils and closed his eyes in anticipation. He gagged slightly as the dry cotton was rolled around the back of his throat.

“Sit tight for a sec while I go set this to run,” McCoy disappeared with the offending object in his hand.

The poor Captain was absolutely miserable. A scratchy throat two days ago had turned into a nasty sore throat that left him barely able to eat the softest foods available. He had almost managed to avoid sickbay completely until his First Officer turned him in the second McCoy materialized on the transporter pad after returning from his weeklong medical conference. The doctor stomped all the way to his quarters without stopping to drop off his bags in his own room; they were still sitting against the wall next to his office.

McCoy came back thumbing through a data pad in his black undershirt and grey dress pants having taken off his jacket sometime while running the culture.

“This peace and quiet is kinda nice, I could get used to this,” McCoy smirked looking up from the screen.

Jim had a few unsavory things to say in reply, but it was too painful to talk so he glared as menacing as he could.

“So have you been playing tonsil hockey with someone who’s sick?”

“I have not,” the young Captain’s voice sounded worse than grinding metal on glass.

“Well, it’s definitely viral so there’s nothing I can really do for you. Your own crappy immune system is gonna be handling this one. I have some numbing spray and lozenges that should make it so you can eat. Since you have a low grade fever, I’m gonna give you some acetaminophen to take with you. Just make sure you rest and drink plenty of clear fluids and eat soft foods. This should blow over in a week.”

Jim tried to protest but his voice betrayed him and only sent out a painful squeak.

“And another thing, rest your voice. If you strain it then it’s going to take longer for those tissues to heal.”

The angry man ripped the data pad from McCoy’s hands and wrote several expletives about his displeasure.

“Don’t be such an infant you little brat. Just take it easy and you’ll be done with it. I’ll let Spock know you’re supposed to be resting as much as possible, including your voice. Besides, see if Uhura will help you brush up on your sign language.”

McCoy didn’t need to know sign language to know that Jim’s gestures were not friendly.

“Good-bye, Jim. I’m starving and you’re keeping me from the mess hall.”

Jim hopped off the biobed and snatched the bag of supplies Nurse Chapel had waiting for him on the counter at the nurse’s desk.

“Well, he’s in a fantastic mood,” McCoy scrubbed his tired face.

It had been a long and boring week at Star Base 26 listening to droning specialists presenting their latest research. This conference didn’t even offer practical sessions so he just sat there listening and trying to stay awake the whole time. The only exciting times were after the day’s lectures when the presenters broke out their booze in the officer’s lounge.

“He’s certainly not feeling well, Leonard. He’s been trying to hide it for the past few days so he’s been a little snappy at everyone.”

“Yeah, I guess I would be too if I had a childhood disease.”

“Well go catch up to him, he missed you this week. That probably didn’t help.”

McCoy rolled his eyes, but truthfully he’d missed the little shit too. The doctors at the conference were nowhere close to ‘Jim Kirk’ entertaining. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” he hastened out of his sickbay and into the corridors to catch up to his friend so he could fill him in on all the new holos he watched in his free time.

###

“You certainly are an immunological magnet,” McCoy eyed Jim’s dinner selections skeptically.

Jim looked down at his tray of carefully chosen soft foods.

“Why the judgment if I want mashed potatoes and ice cream?”

“So it has nothing to do with the oatmeal for breakfast or the soup for lunch?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jim tried to avoid the doctor’s eyes while digging into his mountain of strawberry ice cream.

McCoy was about to make another comment about his recent eating habits but Uhura and Spock sat down next to them.

“Captain?”

“Spock, we’re off duty.”

“My apologies, Jim. Are you still experiencing discomfort? You have selected soft foods for a second consecutive meal.”

“You too?” Jim threw down his spoon in exasperation.

“Is there a problem? I am merely pointing out a recent shift in your dietary habits. 82.3% of the time you select meals that are much more carnivorous in nature.”

Uhura saw the flush in Jim’s cheeks and gently stepped on Spock’s foot, their secret signal for him to ‘shut the hell up’.

“So which replicator has the best ice cream, Kirk?” Uhura dunked a spoon into her bowl of some kind of chunky stew.

“It depends on what flavor you want. Two has the best strawberry, but six has the best chocolate.”

“What about Andorian pear?”

“Try number five. Scotty’s been tinkering with some of the more exotic flavors on that one.”

“Do you want ice cream, Spock?” she pushed back from the table.

He was about to decline but Uhura’s look told him that he better accept her offer, “Yes, thank you, Nyota.”

McCoy sat there in silence watching Uhura return with two overfilled bowls of Andorian pear ice cream for both herself and Spock. The rest of the meal passed with them chatting amicably about the recent recreational events on the ship. Everyone was still talking about the competition to create a marshmallow shooter from a given box of unwanted odds and ends scrounged from around the ship. It had been a close competition with Sulu and Chekov’s device eeking out Scotty’s design by a mere four centimeters. McCoy was ranting about having lost several hundred credits to Jim on their not-so-secret side bet. 

“Thank you for your company, Jim, Doctor McCoy,” he and Uhura stood from the table in unison.

“G’night guys, see you tomorrow for beta.”

“Wanna fess up to anything, Jim?” McCoy asked as soon as they were alone.

“Stop hovering, Bones. It’s damn annoying sometimes,” Jim snapped.

“No need to bite my head off. Is it your throat?” McCoy had diagnosed him earlier that day but dinner only confirmed it.

Jim’s silence was only further telling.

“Well, let’s stop by sickbay so I can take a look.”

“Bones, it’s nothing.”

McCoy wasn’t buying it.

“It feels just like last time a few months ago, I’ll take it easy on the throat and it’ll go away again.”

“That’s what worries me. Jim, it’ll take five minutes,” McCoy was picking up Jim’s tray in addition to his own to hammer down his point.

“I hate you being a doctor,” Jim growled getting up from the table and following his friend to the reprocessor.

“Yeah, c’mon dear,” he waited for Jim to lead the way, limiting the chances for escape.

Jim pouted and stomped the two-minute walk, and turbolift ride, to sickbay where he met the nurse on gamma trying to suppress a smirk at the sight.

“Just take a seat and open up,” McCoy already had the light on the tricoder wand switched on.

The man’s tonsils were only barely inflamed this time. Whatever that had a hold of them was only in its early stages. He quickly swabbed each one and took the sample to be cultured. Again, not bacterial so Jim just had to ride it out.

“Alright, not bacterial again. Do you still have some of that spray and lozenges?”

Jim nodded silently.

“Okay, start using those again. Keep things easy and drink plenty of fluids for the next few days. Whatever this is, it’s early so if you start all this now you might knock this out earlier.”

“I told you it was the same thing,” Jim huffed, pushing off the biobed.

McCoy grabbed his arm before he could escape quickly.

“What is it, Bones?” he snapped.

“Look, Jim, if this happens again your tonsils need to come out. I’m actually still surprised you have them knowing your special attraction to nasty microorganisms.”

“They don’t need to come out, they’re fine right where they are.”

“This isn’t going to be a question of what you want. I won’t have any choice but to make a medical decision and remove them. Remember, I am the CMO of this ship.”

“You can’t just cut shit out of me, CMO or not,” Jim wrenched his arm from McCoy’s grip.

McCoy was alarmed at how angry Jim was all of a sudden, “Just calm down and let me finish explaining.”

“Fine then, Doctor McCoy, go on.”

“Having recurrent infections isn’t good in the long run. Besides, if they’re out they’ll stop bothering you.”

“How can you decide to slice them out after two sore throats?”

“I’m willing to bet fifty credits that you had a lot of them as a child?”

“So what? A lot of kids get sore throats.”

“Jim, it’s a simple procedure. You wouldn’t even have to spend the night in sickbay.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen again so this won’t be an issue.”

McCoy knew a losing battle when he saw one, “Alright, kid, go get some rest. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

Jim only threw up a hand since he was already two steps out of the door.

###

He swallowed and was immediately wide-awake; he knew what that tingling would eventually lead to. Another hesitant swallow, the same thing.

Shit.

“Lights.”

No hoarseness, there’s still time.

The lights were bright but he quickly adjusted to the level and was up in the bathroom looking for the spray and drops McCoy gave him the last two times. A quick shake of the bottle revealed that it was nearly empty and there were only three lozenges left in the packet. He couldn’t help but groan, he wouldn’t be able to keep up the charades for too long. Nonetheless he gave the back of his throat a quick spray and popped a lozenge in his mouth. Hopefully he could keep things from getting bad enough to draw unwanted attention.

He looked at the chronometer on his desk; it was only an hour until he had to get up anyways. If he played things right he could get to breakfast before the good doctor, and his schedule for the next few days was packed with holoconferences with command so it should be easy to avoid the man for a little while. 

Set on his plan he dressed quickly and arrived at the mess hall before the usual rush of pre-shift occupants. He quickly got to a replicator and ordered a plate of eggs and bacon with a bowl of oatmeal. It wouldn’t surprise him if his meal choices weren’t under surveillance so this should throw McCoy off the trail by making it look like he was extra hungry this morning. The bacon and eggs went into the reprocessor as soon as they appeared, and he took his oatmeal and hot tea to a secluded corner of the seating area.

He managed to consume everything and was on his way out when he ran into McCoy.

“You eat already?” McCoy stopped in front of the coffee dispenser. 

“Yeah, I had to get up early to get ready for the meetings this morning so I went ahead and ate.”

“Oh, okay,” McCoy took a long pull from his steaming mug. “I’ve got a few experiments I need to get done and send to SFM today so I don’t think I’ll have time to meet you for lunch.”

“That’s okay, Bones. I’m gonna be tied up with Command all day too. I’ll be lucky to get a sandwich in.”

The ruse was working and McCoy was heading towards the replicators, “Make sure you eat, kid.”

“Don’t worry,” Jim was already walking away.

“I always worry,” McCoy threw over his shoulder while grabbing a stack of pancakes.

Jim let out a breath as soon as he was clear of the mess hall. He deserved an award for that performance. Granted he was extremely lucky that both their schedules were so misaligned that they weren’t likely to see each other for a while, that would give him plenty of time to beat his scratchy throat on his own.

“Good morning, Captain,” Spock greeted him as he stepped onto the Bridge.

“Mornin’, Spock. Gamma go well?” he asked, starting his rounds at each station.

“Yes sir, no issues to report.”

“Smooth sailing, huh?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Great. It’ll be a few days before we get to Hafnia IV,” Jim crossed by the main viewer to the stations on the other side.

“I am aware.”

“Dismissed, Spock.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Again fate had aligned itself so his schedule would barely overlap with the uber-observational Vulcan.

“Alright, Sulu, I’ll be in my ready room with Command. You’ve got the conn.”

“Aye sir,” Sulu responded as he walked into his ready room.

The first thing he did was replicate the largest hot tea the machine would produce and poured it into this travel mug. He sat down in front of the screen just in time for it to come to life segmented with various officers from Command and other starship captains.

“Gentlemen,” he greeted after taking a sip of his tea.

The day wore on and on and on. It was a never-ending series of conference calls and it was draining every ounce of his energy. His plan to drink copious amounts of tea backfired as his urge to hit the head hit only thirty minutes into the first call. After that he restricted himself to all fluids except for a small glass of water he chugged with his sandwich during a fifteen-minute break between calls. He could feel his voice going during the last call and it was getting more and more painful to swallow, there was no faking this much longer. The gulp slid down painfully.

He cleared his throat and turned off the screen, laying his head back against his chair. With any luck McCoy was still tied up in the lab or already went to dinner without him. A quick check of the doctor’s location showed him still in sickbay meaning the mess hall was clear. His relief saw his desperation and quickly went through the ceremony to take over for the shift and he was free to bolt to the mess hall.

His luck had run out and he nearly collided into McCoy trying to get his tray quickly.

“Hey, Jim. Goodness you look like shit,” McCoy grabbed his own tray.

He suppressed the grimace as he moistened his throat; “You try talking to Command all day. Literally all day.”

McCoy froze, “Your throat’s not bothering you is it?”

“Other than the fact that I’ve been talking non stop with barely enough time to grab a glass of water.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a few of those days myself. Goodness, I’m looking forward to face planting in my bed as soon as I eat.”

“Same,” Jim grabbed his to-go container.

“You’re not eating here?” 

“No, I gotta finish some paperwork that I didn’t get to today because of the conference calls.”

“Alright, breakfast then?”

“Sounds good,” he lied through his teeth.

McCoy got two steps away before the gnawing in his stomach got the better of him and he turned back to check the replicator what was recently ordered – tomato soup and mashed potatoes.

God dammit, I knew it.

As if he didn’t have enough to do, now he had to ambush the man in the morning and make him confess. Jim scattered like a roach at the mere mention of sickbay or a hypospray. Grumpily he plopped down with his tray and dug into the pasta he wasn’t too keen on eating any more. He finished his plate quickly and deposited it in the reprocessor before heading back to sickbay.

“Forget something, boss?” Chapel was on duty for the night.

“Yeah, I need you to switch with whoever’s on float this week. I’ll need you tomorrow.”

“What for?” she put down the data pad she was working from.

“I have a feeling the Captain is hiding another case of tonsillitis.”

“Another one?”

“Yeah, they gotta come out and I’m gonna need your help to wrangle him.”

“Why don’t you give him a sublingual lorazepam first?”

“See, this is why I need you. You’re useful,” McCoy smirked.

“I’m the only one that willingly puts up with you.”

“That too. Thanks, Chris,” he was already headed out of the doors.

“See ya tomorrow,” she was already messaging the float nurse to switch shifts.

###

An incessant chime drug him out of what little sleep he was getting. He didn’t have time to open his eyes before the chiming stopped and there was a swooshing as the door opened.

“You keep abusing that and I’m gonna take that power away from you,” he croaked without opening his eyes.

“I didn’t see you at breakfast,” McCoy was hovering over him.

“Not hungry. I want to sleep in some after yesterday,” he burrowed further under the blankets. 

“Wanna confess to anything?”

He swallowed slowly, wincing in the process, “No.”

The mattress dipped as the doctor sat down on the edge. The man’s probing fingers were cool on his aching throat.

“Uh huh,” he drew his hands back.

Jim lazily opened his eyes.

“You know, you’d feel better if they were gone and this wasn’t happening every couple of months.”

“You’re not taking them out.”

“I had mine taken out when I was little. It was awesome. I ate so much ice cream and watched holos all day.”

“Stop trying to be all gushy, besides I have a ship to run.”

McCoy sighed and looked around the room. He quickly saw the container from dinner sitting untouched on Jim’s desk.

“Did you eat dinner?”

Jim opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off.

“Don’t lie to me either just to get your way.”

“No,” he said quietly.

“Alright, throw some sweats on and you’re coming with me.”

“I wish I didn’t know you,” Jim pulled himself out of bed and over to his dresser to hunt for clothes.

“You keep saying that, yet you keep needing me.”

Jim glared at the man while pulling on a pair of academy sweats over his shorts.

“Just a t-shirt,” McCoy saw him grab the matching sweatshirt.

There was a low growl as Jim shrugged a ratty University of Iowa shirt over his head. He stuffed his feet into his slippers and followed McCoy with his head down.

“Don’t look so glum, I’m not taking you to the guillotine.”

“I don’t know, if you slip you could slice something more off.”

McCoy grabbed under Jim’s arm and yanked him to a stop, “I take a lot of shit from you, but that’s downright offensive.”

“Sorry, Bones. I didn’t mean it in the sense that I don’t trust you.”

“Jim, what’s the matter? You weren’t nearly this bad after the Vengeance.”

McCoy brought up a taboo subject and Jim recoiled.

“I’m just not a fan of doctors.”

“I promise it won’t be bad. You’ll be back to your quarters in a couple of hours.”

Jim knew it was either divulge his fears or go ahead and be done with this.

“Fine, Bones. Just get this over with.”

They made it to sickbay without any other incidents. Chapel was waiting for them at the desk looking as happy as always.

“Good morning, Captain, Doctor McCoy.”

Jim grumbled while McCoy gave her a proper greeting. She passed McCoy the lorazepam discreetly as he walked by.

“Pick a biobed, any biobed.”

The only reply from Jim was a huff as he pulled himself onto a biobed after kicking off his slippers. 

McCoy held out the pill in the palm of his hand.

“What’s this?” Jim picked up the small white tablet.

“The sedative. It goes under your tongue.”

“No hypos?” Jim eyed it suspiciously.

“Do you want one?”

The Captain quickly popped it under his tongue, letting it dissolve. McCoy raised the head of the biobed and handed Jim a data pad.

“Here, just hang out and relax while it circulates.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” McCoy tucked the blanket from the end of the biobed around Jim.

He got a wink from Chapel as he left Jim to succumb to the sedative on his own.

“Works every time,” she breathed, handing him a data pad with Jim’s chart pulled up. “I’ll start an IV once he’s out.”

“Not too shabby, Chris.”

They piddled around the bay for fifteen minutes until he came back to check on Jim who was out cold. Chapel went straight to work lowering the head of the biobed and starting an IV in the back of Jim’s hand. More sedatives were injected and a small sterile field was activated over the biobed. 

The entire procedure took less than an hour, the IV removed, and the head of the biobed was raised again well before Jim began stirring. 

“Wake up, sunshine,” McCoy was armed with a cup of crushed ice and a spoon.

Jim mumbled something intelligible.

“What?”

“I still hate you,” he whispered.

“Feeling nauseous or anything?”

“Ugh, this hurts.”

“Well open up, I’ve got ice for you,” McCoy loaded a spoonful of ice.

Jim rolled his head around on the thin pillow and slightly opened his mouth.

“Don’t make me do the airplane, otherwise I’ll dump this cup all over your ass.”

His mouth opened up enough for McCoy to slip the spoon in.

“Once you wake up some more, I’ve got a cherry popsicle waiting for you.”

Jim took two more spoonfuls of ice before rolling his head away and burrowing into the blankets.

“Cold?” McCoy set the cup and spoon down.

“Yeah.”

The doctor activated the warming function on the biobed and Jim straightened back out.

“Thanks.”

“Just lay here and wake up. You’re free to go once you eat your popsicle and keep it down for a little while.”

It was about twenty more minutes before Jim was wide-awake and begging for the popsicle. 

“Swallow this first,” McCoy held up a small cup of clear liquid.

“That better be vodka,” Jim sniffed it.

“As if, that would feel even worse. It’s just pain meds. Figured you’d want this instead of a hypo.”

Jim knocked it back faster than if it had been the spirits, his throat was killing him. He traded the empty cup for a bright red popsicle that had been the doctor’s other hand.

“See, you’ll be outta here before lunch at this rate.”

With his mouth preoccupied with the cold treat, Jim sent McCoy an unsavory hand gesture.

“Wanna see them?”

“You kept them?” Jim pulled the popsicle out.

“For now, I didn’t know if you wanted to see them before I tossed them out.”

“You want me to puke all over your shoes?”

“So to the incinerator they go.”

Jim lit up at the sight of Spock entering with Uhura who had a pint of ice cream in her hands.

“No ice cream just yet,” McCoy deflated Jim’s excitement in one swoop. “Clear liquids for a couple of days then ice cream.”

“Do not worry, Doctor McCoy, we anticipated this and have also secured a supply of ‘ice pops’,” Spock produced a carton of juice based ice treats.

“That deserves an instant promotion, Spock.”

“I will let Starfleet know.”

There was a pause in the group while they processed the joke. 

Once the wheels turned, Jim howled with laughter and then immediately regretted his reaction. “Was that a joke?” he winced.

McCoy was equally amused and tried to keep it from his voice, “Arlight, no more riling him up.”

“My apologies, Jim,” Spock’s expression was neutral.

“Do you have a freezer we can put these in?” Uhura wasn’t hiding her smirk.

“Yeah, I’ll go put ‘em up,” McCoy took the treats and disappeared into a storage room.

“Don’t annoy McCoy too much,” Uhura patted Jim’s arm.

“No promises. Don’t scratch my ship, Spock.”

“Rest well, Jim,” Spock nodded before following Uhura out of sickbay.

Jim groaned inwardly with the sight of McCoy approaching with a tricorder.

“Before you start whining, I’m just checking before I discharge you,” McCoy already had the tricorder wand ready to go and was scanning. “Looks good, sunshine.”

“That’s it?” Jim was not used to being discharged so effortlessly.

“I told you it’d be simple. Now you need to take it easy resting for a couple of days and then I’ll let you back on to light duty. You’ll be back to your obnoxious self in a week.”

Jim couldn’t push the blanket off fast enough.

“Easy there,” McCoy had a steadying grip on the captain’s bicep as he slid off the biobed.

McCoy toed Jim’s slippers closer to their target. The process wasn’t as smooth as usual, but Jim managed to step into them without too much wavering. It was a slow walk back to the captain’s quarters but Jim made it there with McCoy close behind and ready to intervene if anything, mainly Jim, went sideways. 

“Home sweet home,” McCoy steered his charge to the unmade bed before he could protest. “I want you to stay in bed the rest of the day. Christine or I will be stopping by on and off today to check on you and bring you your meds.”

Jim did grumble at that.

“You’re more than welcome to come back to sickbay with me and spend the day there so I can keep an eye on you,” McCoy pulled the rumpled bed covers up over Jim.

Jim was silent.

“That’s what I thought. Just take it easy, I didn’t say you had to sleep the whole time. Watch some holos, read, nap, whatever. Send me a note in a little while what flavor popsicle you want when one of us comes to check on you.”

Jim knew he was being an asshole for no reason, “Thanks, Bones.”

“Anytime, you know I’m not here to make things worse.”

“I know, I get it.”

If there was a reply, it was cut off by McCoy’s comm chirping, “Duty calls. Rest.”

McCoy filled a glass with water and set it on the bedside table and called down the lights before leaving.

###

McCoy’s hands were full with two mess trays stacked on top of each other so he pushed the door chime with his elbow. He pressed it again after there was no reply. He groaned at the continued lack of response and delicately shifted the trays to one hand and punched in his override code. The door swished open just as he got his other hand back on the precariously balanced trays. He called up the lights and set the trays down on the captain’s coffee table before he could drop them. 

He knew from his and Christine’s checks that Jim had spent almost the entire day asleep. Jim would wake up for popsicles and meds and would promptly go back to sleep. The captain would be none the wiser to know that a mild sedative had been slipped into the meds he’d swallowed. Said Captain was propped up in his bed on a mound of pillows asleep with a data pad loose in his hands.

“Jim?” McCoy called out softly to the sleeping captain. 

With no response he sat on the edge of the bed and took a quick scan of his patient with the tricorder he’d stashed in his pocket. There was no use not taking the opportunity and doing it while he was awake and would whine.

“Wake up, sunshine. Dinner time,” McCoy laid a hand on Jim’s forehead to convince himself a fever was nonexistent.

Jim began to stir. He drowsily swallowed but was immediately brought to awareness from the pain.

“Yep, time for meds and dinner. You need to eat for your antibiotics,” McCoy grabbed the forgotten data pad and pulled down the bed covers.

Jim rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “I’d say I was really tired today but I get the suspicion you had some help with that.”

McCoy rolled his eyes without acknowledging the comment, “Dinner’s on the coffee table.”

Jim swung his legs over the bed and wavered as he stood up too fast. McCoy was quick with a steadying hand under his arm, and if Jim could feel the doctor’s fingers pressing hard enough to feel a pulse at an underlying artery he didn’t point it out. After a few seconds he was guided to his sofa and lowered down gently. The lids were taken off the trays and the one obviously for him was shoved closer. He grimaced at the array of unappetizing liquids before him.

McCoy sat down with less grace and pulled his tray closer, “Pain meds on the right, antibiotics on the left.”

Jim downed the little of vial of clear liquids that was sitting next to a cup of juice. If anything the doctor was at least thoughtful, steaming broth was in a mug that had handles on both sides and could be consumed on a sofa without needing a spoon. Jim looked longingly at the hearty sandwich on the other tray. Despite the pain, he was hungry for real food.

“Don’t even think about it, I don’t need you tearing up your throat,” McCoy said around biting the corner of his sandwich. 

Jim dutifully picked up his broth and McCoy grabbed the remote for the holo. He sipped his dinner while the channel was flipped to a college football game. 

“Fun day at work, dear?” Jim moved on to a pot of applesauce.

McCoy dragged a fry though a blob of ketchup, “Not so bad, a few of the coolant inspectors had some kind of candy or something and were having a field day puking their guts up. At least no one was bleeding, it was a pretty normal day around here.”

“Where did they get it from?”

“No clue, couldn’t get a straight answer out of them between all the upchuckin’. I left them with Geoff to rehydrate and finish getting it out of their system.”

“That wasn’t nice of you.”

“That’s rich coming from you today,” McCoy didn’t even skip a beat and continued eating his dinner.

Jim paused and let out a breath. He knew he’d been a real dick to the man for no good reason. He couldn’t even explain the onset of the fear, he’d been hurt several times since ‘the big one’.

“Yep, I deserve that.”

“Care to explain?” McCoy paused eating long enough to take a long pull from his sweet tea.

“Being a dick for no reason.”

“Uh huh.”

“Seriously, Bones. I don’t know why I was being an asshole this morning.”

McCoy abandoned his dinner and leaned back into the sofa cushions, “I get it. First time having to go under without leaving a pint of blood all over the floors.”

Shit he’s good

Jim was amazed, he hadn’t even made that connection and the doctor hit the bulls-eye on the first try.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like having you in sickbay because you actually need something, but it was nice getting to work without all the chaos you usually cause there. Probably the first time my floors were clean after you left.”

“Har har,” Jim rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Jim. I don’t take it personally. I’d never get anything done if I took people not liking doctors personally. Enough of this sappy shit, it’s been a bitch of an afternoon and I just want to hang out.”

Jim looked at the man who’d tipped his head back, “You could’ve at least brought some popsicles with you.”

“Check the case on your desk,” McCoy said without turning his eyes from the game. “Bring me a cherry one.”

“They’ve been here the whole time?” Jim crossed the room to his desk.

“I use the sickbay freezer to hold important things like medicines for everyone, not your tooth rotting popsicles.”

“Now who’s being the dick?” Jim launched a cherry popsicle towards the sofa.


End file.
